Why do you curse Mercy
by QueenoftheKeys
Summary: Erik's sad story ever since he was a young boy. How did Erik become the Phantom? What were the Phantom's feelings as he saw Christine for the first time? Sad story, please review. UPDATED CH:8!
1. Harsh Beginnings

**Why do you curse Mercy?**

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the opera or anything that goes with it. :(

Hey Guys! First fic so reviews are greatly appreciated! Thanks! -QK

Chapter 1-Harsh Beginnings

A pair of cold pleading eyes stared at its mother. The terrified woman backed away from the young boy. "Please…she pleaded while holding her hand over her eyes. "Don't hurt me! Please don't send the devil after me! Have mercy!" "Mama, I don't want to hurt you! Please just tell me you love me….please…that's all I ever wanted." The young boy started toward his mother slowly. "STOP!" The woman screamed. She backed away until she reached the door.

"My husband is coming home soon, and he will give you another beating if you take ONE MORE STEP!" As fast as she could she could she pushed open the door of their small shack and sprinted down the street. Defeated, the young boy collapsed onto the floor, crumbling into a heap, sobbing hysterically. "Why does she hate me?" he sobbed. "Am I really a demon?" I have never done anything wrong!" Still crying, the boy slowly got up.

I can't stay here, he thought to himself. Poppa will come home and will no doubt beat me to death for frightening mama again. He grabbed his sock puppet monkey, something he had made for himself out of scraps of fabric, and ran out onto the streets. It was snowing outside, and he was certainly not dressed for the weather, for he was skin and bones, and the few rags he had on almost shed no warmth whatsoever. As he made fresh footprints in the fresh fallen snow, he thought more about why his parents hated him so much. Since he was born, he had been neglected love from everyone. But why? He did not understand. For the past 6 years of his life he had been given the names "demon" or "monster".

His mom was terrified of him, and if he stepped in 10 feet in range of her, she would scream for Poppa, who would come with his stick and beat him, while yelling "You will not harm her! Go back to hell where you belong!" He was about three years old when he received his first mask, a torn sack with eye holes cut in it. That was what he had to wear over his head his entire life.

But why? He had no idea. He had never seen his own reflection before, for there was no mirrors in their small home. His father always told him that he should be grateful, that they were taking care of a demon. But today, father was not there, so why not take his chances with trying to embrace his mother. But now he regretted even thinking the idea, for now he was homeless, freezing, with an empty stomach.

The boy kept on walking and walking, for what seemed like hours and hours, until he reached the woods. He spotted a huge tree with dry ground underneath it, and scurried under it. Wrapping his arms around his body, he started to shiver, and soon his teeth started to chatter nosily. Wet hot tears slid down his dirty face, and soon he started to sob once again. He buried his face into his mangled toy, but was very careful, for he didn't want to break the only friend he had ever had.

"GET UP YOU DEMON! GET UP!" the boy awakened to loud yelling, and then he felt a strong blow to his head. Papa was looming over him, his strong fingers pinching his ear. "GET UP NOW! BOY, I WILL KILL YOU IF YOU DO NOT GET UP!" As quick as the scared boy could, he scrambled to his feet. "YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE DEVIL!" Papa screamed.

He dragged the boy by his ear out of the woods. "HOW DARE YOU SCARE YOUR MOTHER AGAIN!" AND THEN HAVE THE NERVE TO RUN AWAY!" He than added quietly, "I would have left you here, if it wasn't for the traveling circus". The boy became confused. _Traveling circus?_ He thought.What do I have anything to do with the traveling circus?

They kept on walking, as just as the boy felt his ear was about to fall off from all the pulling, his father stopped. The boy looked around, and saw a huge tent, with the words "Gypsies Carnival" scrawled across it. The boy became more confused yet. What are we doing here? He thought. How does this have anything to do with me? Suddenly his father threw him to the ground. "Don't you dare move" he growled. The boy's father walked up to the giant tent and shouted out "Gypsies! Is anyone there? I have an agreement to make!" A moment later a filthy man, with strange clothes and a scraggly, dirty beard emerged from the tent.

He stepped toward father, and they talked for several minutes, looking at the boy the whole time. What's going on? The boy thought, still on the ground, not daring to move. The two began walking toward the boy, and he became very nervous. The boy's father raised his hand over the boys head, and the boy closed his eyes, bracing himself for his Papa to hit him, but instead his father snatched the sack off his head, revealing his face. The gypsy gasped in horror, and then smiled a devilish grin.

"You're right" the gypsy muttered in a strange accent. "He is hideous. I will take him". _What?_ The boy stared in shock as his father shook hands with the strange gypsy. Surely his father wasn't selling him to this…this…disgusting man! They gypsy fished around in his pocket and handed 5 or 6 silver coins to the boy's father, then smiled a hideous, toothless smile at the boy.

"Don't worry my good man" he said. "I will treat him...how he_ deserves_ to be treated!" The gypsy then threw back his head and howled with revolting laughter. While the gypsy was laughing, the boy searched his fathers face for any sympathy, but all he found was a cold, hard stare. Knowing all was lost, the boy reached for his sack to put back on his head, but the gypsy grabbed his arm. What you doing, monster? He leered. "How can we make money if you have this sack over your head? He laughed, and threw the sack to the boy's father.

The gypsy then twisted the boy's arm back, and then threw him back to the ground. For a second, the boy thought his father was going to jump up, hit the gypsy in the face, and then yell, "What are you doing to my son? Let me have him, the deal is off!" But it did not happen. Instead his father merely watched, no sympathy in his eyes whatsoever, and didn't even look at his helpless son, withering on the ground like a worm. His father suddenly spoke. "I must be going to see my wife, she is still frightened…." He then looked at his son for the first time, but with hate in his eyes. "But I trust you will treat him well. Good day monsieur." The boy's father started walking away, not even bothering to look back. "Do not worry good monsieur" the gypsy said more to the boy than to the boy's father. "I will treat him very, _very_ well."

_1 year later_

"Boy! Get up you wretched monster! GET UP! A burning sensation started spreading like fire throughout the boys back, and the boy slowly opened his bright blue eyes. Above him towered his filthy master, threatening him with his whip. "Get up quickly or I will tell the devil to pick up his son!" Once more the whip came down on the boys bare skin, but it did not hurt as much anymore, because he was so used to it. The boy quickly scrambled up, grabbing his bag and pulling it over his head. He quickly stepped out the open door of the cage, his eyes on the floor. His master glared down at him with his drunken eyes, the boy could almost fell the hate shooting sparks at him. "Were brinin' in mo people today….any mistakes and you're finished." He then threw back his head and laughed, and the boy could see the black stains deep the mans yellow teeth. "Now get back into you're cage you filthy demon!" he yelled, giving him a hard kick right in the stomach. The boy fell hard to the ground, clutching his chest. The filthy man started laughing again, and taking another swig of his beer, stomped out of the tent. The small boy sat up, rubbing his throbbing stomach. He wanted to cry, but his eyes had no tears left, for he had cried almost every day for the last year, ever since his father had sold him away to this hellhole. A small noise startled him, and the boy looked up. A small dressed up monkey looked back at him. "Oh." The boy smiled" "its only you". The monkey then screeched happily and slid through the bars of the cage, dropping a small piece of stale bread before he slid out again. The boy grinned and picked up the piece of dry crust. "Thank you" he whispered quietly while his small friend scurried out of the tent. As the boy hungrily brought the scrap of food to his dry lips, he thought about the monkey, the only friend he had ever had except for his toy, of course. His masters rarely fed him, and whenever the boy felt as if he was at the brink of starvation, his friend would show up, baring a small scrap of food. The boy smiled and looked at his sock puppet. He had decided long ago that his sock puppet was a symbol of his monkey friend, and the boy loved that sock puppet even more. As the boy nibbled on his bread crust, he thought about how his past year had been. Ever since his father had abandoned him to this horrible traveling circus, he had never felt so alone. Every day he was beaten, starved, and humiliated in front of crowds of people, who laughed and jeered at him, for what reasons he did not know. _It has to be my face, _the boy thought to himself. _Why else would they hate me so?_ Slowly the boy brought his hand to one side of his face. It felt smooth, and except for a gashes from blows, normal.


	2. Not An Animal

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or anything that goes with it. 

Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews; I hope you are enjoying my story. **The last part of the 1st chapter got cut off,** so that's why my first chapter ended a little weirdly, so now I'm continuing right where we left off. Sorry! Please keep up the reviews! - QKeys

**NOTE-** (I was not sure of Madame Giry's first name, so I made one up.)

Chapter 2- Not an Animal

The boy then felt the other side of his face. This side was much bumpier and gashed, but the boy figured it was from being hit all the time. What else would it be? Slowly, the boy put his sack back on his head, still wondering what about him everybody hated. _What did I do? _The boy thought for the millionth time. Suddenly the boy heard noises. He heard his master shouting out for people to come and see the demon. He heard gypsies beckoning people to have their fortunes told. He heard many people shuffling into the tent. The circus was opening. The boy sadly turned his back to the entrance of his tent. As wet hot tears slid down his face, he started to play with his monkey puppet. His harsh thoughts broke open inside his head._ Here we go again _he thought sadly.

Charlotte Giry hurried along the streets with her friends, her cheeks pink with excitement. "Oh I can't wait!" Said one of girls. "I've never been a carnival before!" All of them started whispering excitedly, and their walking pace quickened a bit as they neared the fair tents. Once they reached the carnival, they stopped, a little afraid. "Come in!" the gypsies beckoned from inside the tent. The gypsies were dirty and smelled foully, with strange clothing and black decaying teeth. Captivated by such strange people, the girls slowly filed into the tent.

The girl's eyes went wide as they gasped in wonder as they stared at all of the strange and interesting people that were showing off. "Come see the Devil's Child" the strange gypsies beckoned, "Come see the one from the East!" The excited girls quickly stepped inside the tent's opening. As Charlotte stepped into the tent, she started coughing; the air was so thick and dusty. A horrible odor filled her nostrils and made her sneeze. She squeezed her way to the front of the crowd, ignoring the protests of the people she was cutting in front off. But what she saw when she got to the front made her stare in disbelief.

There in the middle of a tent, was a cage with a _humane_ inside it. A humane! Not some vicious wild animal, but a small boy, no older then seven. The starving boy sat in the middle of the small cage, his back to the audience, with a sack over his head. Charlotte curled her fingers around the cages bars, her eyes refusing to look away from the pitiful creature. Just then, the boy looked behind him, glancing at the people who were staring curiously at him. Behind the sack, His eyes traveled around the room until they saw Charlotte. For a minute, the two just stared at one another, until Charlotte finally had to look away. She stared down at her shoes, not able to hold in the cold wet tears that were slowly slithering like snakes down her pale pink cheeks.

"STEP RIGHT UP! STEP RIGHT UP TO SEE…THE DEVIL'S CHILD!" As the people shuffled into the tent the boy felt many rude stares on his back, but he continued to play with his toy. The air was suddenly thick with voices talking about the boy. He tried to ignore it as much as he could, but it was hard. He looked behind his shoulder to see how big the crowd, and caught the eye of a young attractive girl who was staring intently at him. The boy stared back, and for the first time did not think that she was staring out of repulsion. It was something else, something he couldn't quite name. Suddenly a strong hand grabbed his arm, yanking him back so he would face the crowd. "Off with the sack" he growled. The boy did not move. "Off with it!" He yelled, hitting the boy hard on his stomach with his club. Pain shot through the boy's stomach, making him feel sick, but still he did not take of his mask.

"Have it your way then you bastard." The boys master yanked harder on his arm, causing the boy's whole stomach to be exposed. The master then started hitting the boy's stomach with his club, over and over again. The small tent exploded with laughter. The boy looked up at the people around him, and he saw a sea of cruel, stupid faces, and as he looked into their eyes, he realized what they thought he was; nothing more than a beast a stupid, wild animal.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" his master roared. "I present you with…The Devil's Child!" The boy's master twisted the boy's body so that the boy's face was facing the audience, and then yanked the boy's sack of his head. The boy watched as the audience gasped, their eyes wide with disgust, and then as they began to laugh slowly at first, and then faster and faster, until it was almost a howl. "He's revolting!" The boy heard them say. "He's not even humane!" "He truly IS the Devil's Child!" Satisfied, the boy's master threw him back to the ground. The boy tried, he truly tried to hold in his tears this time, just this once. But he could not.

As the tears once more sped down his cheeks, he thought to himself over and over; _Why me? What have I done?_ _WHAT AM I? _The boy picked up his sack from the ground, and as he slid it over his head, felt a new feeling seeping into his mind. The feeling was anger. It grew slowly at first, and then faster and faster until the boy felt he was going to explode with it. Suddenly, the boy's brain was bursting with thoughts, furious things that were swirling around his mind, so he almost couldn't think. _I hate this! _The boy thought. _I hate this life! I hate everyone! I hate God! _Just then, He heard a noise, disturbing him from his thought.

There was his master, on his hands and knee's digging his fingers into the ground to collect a coin or two. Just then, the boy knew what he hated more than anything in the entire world, and it was right in front of him. Overcome with fury and hatred, the boy spotted a piece of rope that was used to tie him up, lying in the corner. Quietly, the boy moved towards the piece of rope until he had it in his fingers. Slowly, the boy crept towards the revolting man, until he was right behind him. Right then the boy almost backed out. But then he thought about the countless days how he was constantly beaten, humiliated, and starved, and all for a few coins. The anger flew back into him in an angry rage, and before the boy could even think, the rope was around the disgusting man's neck, and the infuriated boy was pulling with everything he had. "Ackhhh" the man choked, "Leeee gooooo!" he sputtered, coughed, and spit, until the man was finally silent, and his head felt limp in the boy's hand. Breathing hard, the boy finally let go of the rope, letting the man fall to the ground with a sickly thud. _What have I done?_ The boy thought, his mind going blank with confusion. Different thoughts were swarming into the young boy's mind, some were thoughts of horror, and other thoughts were off a sweet feeling of revenge. A wonderful, evil feeling of finally doing something about his miserable life. Just then he hears a small gasp. He quickly looked up and in shock saw the same girl who was staring at him before, still in the doorway, a shocked look in her eyes. The boy then turned to ice. He was an animal frozen in the headlights, caught red-handed of his first act of crime.


	3. First Compassion

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or anything that goes with it.

Hello again! Thanks so much for the people who are enjoying my story and are leaving reviews! I reallllly appreciate them. I hope you guys enjoy this next chapter, please keep the reviews up! Thanks!-QKeys

Chapter 3- First Compassion

Charlotte stood staring at the boy. She wanted to run; she wanted to scream that someone had just been murdered! But she could not. She was also frozen and all she could do was stare at the murderer in front of her. Suddenly, a gypsy's voice startled her;

"Quasie! Quasie what taking to long? You there Quasie?"

A million thoughts went through Charlottes mind. Ignoring all of them, Charlotte did what her heart thought was right.. She quickly ran into the cage and pulled out the shocked boy by the hand.

"Quickly! We must hurry! Charlotte whispered. "They shall kill you if they find what you have done!" Terror filled the young boy's eyes as he started to understand.

"Wait!" he gasped. "My toy!" Before Charlotte could protest the boy quickly scurried into cage and grabbed his sock puppet, then ran back out to Charlotte.

"Is there another way out?" Charlotte whispered.

"Y-y-yes! I-i-i-n the back!" The boy stuttered.

Charlotte looked around and spied the flap opening. She started pulling the bewildered boy with her. Right as they ran out of the tent, she heard gypsies yelling and screaming.

"Murder!" "Murder!"

"He went that way!"

"Get the police!"

_Oh no!_ Charlotte thought. _They've found the corpse! There coming! _Never running faster in her entire life, she dragged the boy to first place that hit her mind; the cellars under the opera house where she stayed. _No one goes down there except me_ Charlotte thought._ I'm sure he can stay there until I find someplace better._ Charlotte ran around a corner, still dragging the poor boy with her, to her secret entrance in the wall. Opening the door, she stuffed the poor boy inside, breathing hard. Looking around, she stepped inside also, clanging the door shut as she disappeared into the wall.

The bewildered boy stared at his rescuer as she quickly clanged the door shut. She slowly turned around to face him. As soon as she did, the boy could not stop staring at her. She looked about older, probably 5 or 6 years. She was beautiful, with huge eyes that lit up her entire face, and perfect rose colored lips. Her cheeks were pink from running; her auburn brown hair was pinned up in the back, so you could see the features of her face more clearly. She had a sweet, sympathetic look to her. The boy thought he was in the presence of an angel.

After many moments of just staring at each other, the boy finally found the nerve to speak;

"A-a-are y-y-you a-an a-angel?" The boy whispered.

The girl smiled, a lock of hair falling into her face. "No little boy. I am no angel. But I will try my best to protect you, if you listen to me. Do you understand?"

The boy nodded vigorously, his bag almost falling off his face.

"Good." Now…do you have a name?" Charlotte asked this question uncertainly, for she doubted those horrible gypsies would name him.

"W-w-well o-once w-when I-I w-was l-little…the boy paused, swallowing as a tear dripped down his face…"M-my m-mama a-a-accidentally c-called m-me b-by a-a n-name…" He paused. "E-E-Erik"

Charlotte watched the boy, having a hard time not crying herself.

"She named you accidentally?" She whispered.

"S-she s-said I-if I-I h-hadn't b-been a-a d-demon s-she w-would h-have n-named m-me…" He paused as his eyes squeezed shut tightly. "E-Erik."

Charlotte also squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block the tears from pouring out of them. After a few moments of controlling herself, she finally opened her eyes.

"Erik it is then." Charlotte did her best to smile at the shivering boy.

"Now Erik…" Christine said. "This building is the Opera Populaire. This is where I stay. You on the other hand are going to stay in this building…but in the cellars. Follow me."

Christine then opened another door which led down many stairways. She started walking down the many stairs, leading a amazed boy by the name of_ ERIK._

Erik followed Christine down the many stairs to the cellars, his mind felt like it was in a tornado. _My name_ Erik thought. _She called me by my name._ Erik's eyes filled with tears again, but this time with tears of happiness._ No more "Boy" and "It!" No more "Demon" or "Monster"! My name is ERIK! _ Erik whispered the name to himself, testing the feel of the name in his mouth. It felt wonderful.

"Were here". Charlotte finally came to a stop. They had been walking down stairs for about half an hour, and Erik was grateful for his legs were a bit tired.

They had arrived at what looked like a small lake. _A lake underground?_ Erik thought.Charlotte started walking toward a small boat, Erik following close behind. Christine climbed into the small boat, and then beckoned Erik to do the same. After they were both in the boat, Charlotte picked up the huge paddle and started rowing them across the small lake. Erik continued to stare at Charlotte. He couldn't believe that someone was finally showing him compassion. Feeling his stares, Charlotte looked back at him.

"Were almost there" she assured. Erik looked ahead. They were nearing huge cage door. Charlotte pushed against it, and almost magically, it started opening. Charlotte rowed the boat the rest of the way in, and then stepped out. Erik lifted himself out of the boat also, and once he was out, his jaw dropped in awe.

There were many platforms, with many beautiful candles around. There were about 5 or 6 huge mirrors, with thick red velvet curtains draped over them. They were miniature play sets, costumes, and old dusty props lying all over. But best of all, in the center of everything there was a gigantic organ, with many candles lit around it. Erik had never seen anything more beautiful in all his life.

"This is the cellar." Charlotte said as she tied up the boat. This is where you will live for now. No one comes here anymore, as you can see, many years ago this was a place to just dump costumes and props from past operas." She looked at Erik, who was staring intently at the organ.

"Do you know how to play?" Charlotte asked quietly.

"N-no." Was Erik's soft reply. "B-b-but I-it l-looks b-beautiful." He stared longingly at the organ, wishing more than anything he knew how to play it.

"I will teach you then." Charlotte smiled as Erik's head shot up, she could see his eyes shining with happiness.

"Erik" Charlotte said gently. "You don't have to wear that bag here. It's alright. You don't have to be scared of anything anymore. I won't let anything happen to you."

Erik stared at Christine, then after many moments, slowly removed the bag for the first time willingly.

"Good Boy. Are you hungry?" Christine stared at Erik's skin tight stomach, answering her own question before he even answered.

Erik nodded, and Christine reached into her pocket and pulled out a bag of biscuits, packed as a snack for her later today.

"Here. It's not much but it's all I have right now." She handed him the bag of food and watched as he ripped it open, gazing hungrily at the feast laid out before him.

"I have to leave now. There probably wondering where I am. But I will be back, I promise. Just stay here, and don't leave these catacombs. Understand?" Erik nodded. Charlotte started to untie the boat.

"C-charlotte..." Erik cleared his throat, trying not to stutter. "W-hen you see m-me…w-what do y-you see? W-what is wrong w-with me?"

Charlotte stared at Erik's face for many moments, than answered his question honestly.

"There is nothing wrong with you Erik. When I look at you I see the most beautiful boy I have ever seen." And with that Charlotte climbed in the boat, and started to row away, trying not to think about the mess she had gotten herself into.


	4. Gradually Turning

Disclaimer: Once again! I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or anything that goes with it.

Hey guys! Thanks once again for the reviews**. In my last chapter I made the mistake of sometimes calling Charlotte the name of Christine.** (Oops!) Any way, I am sorry about that, and I promise I'll watch for mistakes more carefully! Thanks so much and please keep up the reviews!-QKeys

Chapter 4-Gradually Turning

Erik was in heaven. He had never felt happier in his entire life! _Someone loves me_ he thought to himself. _Someone loves me!_ Smiling like a fool, Erik danced around looking at all the amazing props and costumes. He laughed as he tried on a costume a clown might wear, and sighed as he touched the amazing artwork put into the miniature play sets. Just as he was about to try on a bunch of the goofy looking masks lying around, Erik saw something that made his blood turn hot, then quickly cold. What he saw made his stomach drop, so he felt like the wind was knocked out of him. What he saw was the most horrifying thing he had ever seen. What Erik saw was his reflection. Erik gasped, touching his face. He started sobbing.

"I am the devil's child." He sobbed. "I am."

_Three years later-_

The chilling sound of an organ playing filled the catacombs as Charlotte made her way to shore. She stared around the dungeons. It had been three years. Three long years since Charlotte had rescued Erik from that horrible circus. Charlotte had done her best to make the boy feel at home, she had been giving Erik organ lessons, and so far he was getting quite good. But what can you do when a boy lives in cellars under an opera house? Charlotte sighed as she tied the small boat up.

"Erik!" Charlotte called out. "Are you ready for your dinner?"

Surprised, the boy quickly turned from his beautiful instrument.

"Charlotte! I have a new song! Will you give me a lesson?" Erik jumped of the organ bench excitedly, running toward his friend.

"Oh all right. But supper first." Charlotte started to lift the leftovers she had snuck out of the kitchen from her basket. Obediently Erik ran down to where Charlotte was laying out the food, his mask almost slipping off his head, and then made a face.

"Charlotte! Chicken again! Blech!" Erik made another face, lifting up a skin with the tips of his tiny fingers.

"Erik!" Charlotte scolded. "Watch that mouth!" This is the only thing I could sneak away." She pulled out a napkin as Erik carefully lifted up his mask so his mouth was visible, and then scarfed down the chicken.

"I'm sorry Charlotte. Thank you for my dinner. Now can I show you my song?" Erik asked impatiently, already scampering back to his organ.

"Oh all right." Charlotte sighed. "Let's hear it quickly though, I have to be in bed soon." She followed Erik to the organ, and then sat down, while Erik slid onto the bench.

"Well," Erik said nervously, fumbling with his music sheets. "It's not perfect. But I'm working on it." Charlotte nodded approvingly, and Erik put his hands on the keys. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and began to play.

Sounds of every emotion possible filled the dungeons with all its glory. Chills swept though Charlotte like the wind. Charlotte closed her eyes, letting the magic of Eric's playing soar through her. The sound of Eric was not some little boy messing around on a beautiful instrument. It was the sound of a genius, almost some unworldly figure pouring out his emotions in music. Charlotte listened, breathing in the sounds of hate, love, fear, and unsure ness. It was as if Erik wasn't even playing, just talking to her. No more was she in a dungeon, sitting on a cold stone ground. Charlotte was _in_ the music, it was swirling through every inch of her. It was pure magic. And just like that, it was over. Silence spread through Charlotte like dread, the echo of the organ slowly fading. She slowly opened her eyes. As she opened them, she saw Erik, sobbing, hunched over his organ, tears sliding down his face to the keys. For a moment, she just sat there, letting him cry. Strangely, Charlotte understood why he was upset as clear as day. Erik wasn't just playing an organ; he was explaining his life to her. He was telling Charlotte the story of his life. Slowly, Charlotte walked up to the boy.

"Erik…" Charlotte whispered. She laid a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "It's alright. I'm here. Everything is going to be alright."

"Why Charlotte?" Erik whispered as he raised his head to look at her. "Why?" Suddenly, anger exploded through the Erik in a gigantic force. He stood up quickly, knocking over a candle stand.

"Why do I have this face? Why? What have I done to deserve this face?" Erik screamed, knocking over props as he did.

"Look at me!" He yelled, ripping the mask off his face. "Look Charlotte! I'm hideous! I'm a devil! I'm a monster!" He fell to his knees, sobbing. "I have never been loved. Ever." He slid his hands over his deranged face, shaking.

"Erik…" Charlotte bent down and hugged the shivering boy. "Shhhhhhh…" she soothed, taking his hand in hers. "I love you and always will love you. Don't forget that." Erik raised his head to look at Charlotte, his twisted nose running.

"But…" He started to speak but Charlotte stopped him. "Shhhhhhh" She murmured.

"You are no monster, or devil. No matter what anybody says to you about your face, they do now know who you are. They do not know the real Erik, the one that is a gift from heaven. Things will be hard for you Erik, but you can show them who you really are. I know you can." She hugged him even for tightly, just holding him there until his sobs slowly went down to a whimper.

"I love you Charlotte, Erik whispered, his eyes closed, suddenly exhausted from crying.

"I love you too, Erik." Seeing that Erik was sleepy, she started singing to him her lullaby, the same thing she sang to him every night.

"Angel of music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory…" Charlotte continued singing to him in her sweet voice, until she knew that her Erik was asleep. Charlotte slowly got up, pressing the sleeping boy to her, and slowly walked over to his bed, an old prop, careful not to wake him. She slowly lowered Erik onto the velvet cushions, tucking a blanket around his small body. She gently kissed him on his deformed forehead. She pulled on the ropes, and the see through drapes slowly sank down so she could just see Erik's face though the cloth.

"Goodnight my little angel of music."


	5. Something Must Be Done

Disclaimer: Once again! I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or anything that goes with it. Sob

Hello again! Sorry that I've taken so long to update, but I've gotten sooo much homework with school starting. Sadly, it's going to take me a little longer to update now, but I promise I will finish this story! Thanks again for all the reviews, I would like to give a special thanks to **SilverSummerMoon**and **TheInVisibleGirl**for being consistent reviewers, you guys rock! Hey, and If anyone else wants to be thanked by a super awesome phantom-nerd, just review! Lol…just kidding… but really. I hope you enjoy this chapter!-QKeys

Chapter 5- Something must be done

Charlotte trudged into her dorm room, collapsing on a chair. This was too much. Charlotte got up from her chair and started to pace around the small dorm room she shared with her room mate, Ginny, who was fast asleep. Loud snores broke into Charlotte's thoughts. It had been 7 years now. Her little Erik was a teenager! Charlotte sighed, as she stared at her worn-out face in the mirror. After seven years of sneaking leftovers, skipping classes, and endless organ lessons, she hardly had time to talk to her boyfriend! Oh what would Erik do if he found I loved someone else? Charlotte shuddered. Erik would be furious. But charlotte tried not to think of that, because she was exhausted. She quickly shed herself of her clothing, slipped her nightgown on, and then climbed into her bed, trying not to think of the rough future ahead of her.

He loved her. Erik smiled happily as he laid down on his cushion, thinking about his beloved Charlotte. Tomorrow was the day. Tomorrow he would pledge his love to her, and her was positive that she loved him back. Why else would she show so much compassion to him? From the day she had saved his live, Erik had loved her more than anything else in the entire world. He smiled as he thought of her warm, beautiful face.

"Just one more day, my Charlotte." He said to himself. "Just one more day."

The next day Charlotte got out of bed early and quickly dressed. She prepared a basket of food for Erik, and silently tip-toed out the door and made her way to the catacombs. Erik had been acting strangely lately, and she hoped that he was in a good mood. As Charlotte neared the lake, the sweet, sad sound of Erik's playing poured around her. It seemed that boy never got off that organ! After Charlotte tied the boat up, She walked up behind Erik, watching his fingers fly across the keys. She closed her eyes and listened, letting the music devour her. When the magical playing ended Charlotte opened her eyes and clapped softly. Surprised, Erik whirled around to face her.

"O charlotte!" He smiled. "It's only you." He quickly slid off the organ bench and kissed her hand, something Charlotte had taught him to do in the presence of ladies. As Erik straightened himself up, Charlotte could not help staring. Gone was the young boy that Charlotte used to know. In his place was a young man, handsome and charming, with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. His mask, something Charlotte had made for him, covered his face, but could not totally hide his beautiful features. He was dressed in all black, which seemed to suit him. He was tall and muscular, for a boy his age, and he hardly looked like a boy anymore. As charlotte stared into his eyes, she felt something, something dangerous. Despite Erik's wonderful manners, each day he seemed to be turning a little colder, and more demanding. There was no doubt that Erik had a ferocious temper. His beautiful eyes, seemed to be more distant, and gone were the smiles on his face. She loved him dearly, but he seemed to be changing. Charlotte bit her lip nervously. She knew that Erik was very much in love with her, and she had to tell him about the man she loved. She had to tell him about Javert.

"Erik…" Charlotte started. "I have to tell you something."

Erik stared quizzically at his love. "Anything Charlotte. What is it you want to say?"

Charlotte looked down at her feet. She couldn't do it! She couldn't crush Erik's hopes and dreams. But she had to. It had to be done sooner or later.

"Erik… I….I…I'm in love." Charlotte stared as hard as she could at the ground, trying to avoid Erik's crushed gaze. But Erik surprised her.

"Oh Charlotte, I never though this would happen!" Erik shouted happily in his deep voice. "I love you to! I've always loved you! Charlotte's mouth dropped in shock. _Oh no! _She thought._ This is horrible! What am I going to do?_ Before she knew it, Erik's arms were wrapped around her, hugging her tightly.

"I love you Charlotte. "Erik murmured. Tears leaked down from Charlottes face as she gently pulled away from Erik's grasp.

"E-e-erik…" Christine whispered. "It's someone else."

"What? W-what do you mean?

"Erik…I have a boyfriend."

Silence.

After what seemed like hours, Charlotte finally looked up. Erik was kneeling on the ground, tears leaking out from under his mask. But this time, Erik did not look miserable. He looked furious.

"Get out." He whispered. "Get out."

"Erik…" Charlotte tried to caress his face, but suddenly Erik batted her arm away with surprising force.

"Get the hell out of here!" He shouted. "GET OUT!"

Quickly Charlotte ran to the boat, hot tears firing down her face, stinging her eyes. He was starting to get dangerous. Suddenly Charlotte felt a sharp blow to her shoulder blade. Erik had thrown a bowl at her! As a book barely missed her head, Charlotte finally rowed enough distance between them so that Erik could not hit her anymore.

"I HATE YOU CHARLOTTE!" Erik bellowed. "DON'T YOU EVER COME BACK! EVER! I DON'T NEED YOU! I CAN DO EVERYTHING ON MY OWN! I'VE BEEN TORTURED FOR THE LAST TIME! I SWEAR CHARLOTTE; IF YOU COME BACK I'LL KILL YOU! I 'L KILL YOU! Erik crumpled into a heap, sobbing hysterically.

"Damn you Charlotte." He cried. "Damn you."

Charlotte looked back at the huddled figure, her sobs joining with his to compose a song of true pain, and love.

"Erik…" Charlotte choked. "I'm sorry."

Sobbing still, Charlotte finally rowed the boat out of site, and out of Erik's life.

Erik watched the small boat sail out of site, carrying the only love of his live. The only person who had ever shown compassion to him, was now gone.

"Damn her" Erik whispered. "I don't need her. I don't need anybody!" Erik tore of his mask, and staggered to a mirror.

"I hate you." Erik murmured. "Get out of my life!" Erik threw his mask at the mirror, watched it as it clanged against the surface and dropped to the ground. Suddenly, Erik was filled with anger.

"Why god? What have I done to deserve this? Nothing! It's all of them! Not me!" Erik yelled at the top of his lungs, and then fell on his knees, hot tears blurring his vision. Erik stayed frozen like that for a many moments, thinking slowly. A strange smile spread across Erik's face. He slowly stood on his feet, wiping the tears from his face.

Smiling oddly, Erik walked over to his mask and picked it up. "I'll make them pay." Erik smiled as he slid the mask over his face, and smoothed down his hair. "No one will defy me. They will all pay!" Erik smiled. "Just like my trainer in the circus." Erik grinned at the refreshing thought of killing that man, slowly and painfully. But then thoughts of Charlotte drifted into his mind, thoughts telling him that murdering was bad, a sin, a terrible thing to do.

"Good." Erik thought. No one cared for me, so why should I care for them? Gone was the innocent little boy who had a heart of gold. A new being is born. But what if people defy him?

"Well," chuckled Erik, "They will just have to pay the price."


	6. Hello, Charlotte

Disclaimer: Once again! I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or anything that goes with it. Sob

Hi guys! Sorry about the wait. Homework and soccer is taking over my life! Lol. Thanks for the reviews, and they are greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy the this chapter, and keep up the reviewing!-QK

Chapter 6- Hello, Charlotte

_10 years later_

Charlotte stared out the window, tears brimming out of her eyes. She stared down at her bloated, pregnant stomach and lovingly stroked it. A picture of her poor, late husband caught her eye and she caressed the glass cover of the photograph.

Oh Javert, she thought sadly. Why did you have to die? She had been married to her husband for a few years, they were happy, in love, and she was pregnant. And then…Charlotte closed her eyes tight, trying to forget. He had been teaching the chorus girls a new step when suddenly a beam from above fell down on him and killed him instantly. She didn't even have a chance to say goodbye. Charlotte looked down at her stomach, felt the kicks coming from within.

"Oh Meg." She whispered. "How am I going to survive without him?"

Charlotte glanced at the clock and sighed. It was time for her to head back down to the theater, to teach the chorus girl the new act. When her husband, who had been the old dance director, had died, her manager had put her as the new dance director, for she could not dance anymore with her being pregnant.

Charlotte thought about this and wiped her eyes. Maybe he'll let me stay the dance director, she thought. Charlotte slowly got up and turned around to get her coat from the closet. Carefully opening the door, she stared at the solid black coat. It reminded her of someone she had thought of everyday, for the last 10 years.

"Hello Charlotte."

Charlotte froze. The coat she had been holding dropped to the floor. Everything in her body, including her heart, froze and her eyes widened with realization.

That voice….she thought with horror. It's him.

Using every ounce of bravery she had in her, she slowly turned around, chills running through her, to face the man who had been haunting her dreams ever since the day she saved him.

They both stared at each other for a moment. He was a young man now, tall, taller than she remembered. He was wearing an all black suit, and a white mask covered most of his face features, but you could still tell her was devastatingly handsome. His hair, black as night, was slicked back. He was handsome, and he was dangerous. His eyes, those eyes that had haunted her for so long, seemed to pierce through her soul from behind the mask. For a slit second, his eyes drifted down to her stomach and widened a bit. But Charlotte blinked, and the eyes were once again placed upon her face.

"How nice to see you again" Charlotte shivered in fear and anticipation at the sound of his dark, silky voice.

"I-I-it's b-been a w-while" Charlotte whispered, doing her best not to stutter. She took a big breath. "…E-erik.

At the sound of hearing his name for the first time in years Erik felt a sharp feeling of pain. Seeing her for the first time in years was one thing, but hearing his name? His body cringed in pain. She was beautiful, as beautiful as he remembered. Just seeing her lovely, sweet face made his heart begin to ache. He quickly brushed tried to brush it away; he decided long ago that he would be the one causing the pain, not the other way around. But the feeling of pain stayed with him, no matter how he tried to push it away. Taking a sharp but silent breath, he spoke to her.

"Yes it has." How very….different you look." Erik raised an eyebrow as he glanced down at her pregnant stomach.

Charlotte was starting to feel very frightened. She used to know this little boy, Erik, who was standing in front of her. But something was very, very different about him, and the kind little soul he once had seemed to be replaced with something else. Something cruel, and dangerous. Charlotte slowly started to back away, trying to take little steps so he wouldn't notice. Oh, but Erik did notice. A smirk rose out from underneath his mask. So she was afraid of him, was she? Good. He calmly started walking toward her, enjoying the terror in her eyes as he got closer and closer.

Suddenly Charlotte lost it. All her emotions, from having her husband dead, from being pregnant, to seeing _him _made her loose control.

"Oh god Erik!" she screamed at him. "Don't hurt me please, for my baby's sake! I'm sorry, I'm sorry for what I did, but please don't hurt me!" She crumbled into a heap at the floor, sobbing.

Erik was taken back with surprise. Did Charlotte actually think that he was going to hurt her, the one person who had ever shown him compassion? He watched her sobbing on the ground and felt his first pang on guilt for scaring her like this. But he could not stop now, he wanted something, and he was sure that she could give it to him.

"Charlotte." Erik spoke clearly and sharply, but not sharply enough to scare her.

"Stop crying. I'm not going to hurt you, but I do want something that you can help me with."

Charlottes, red, puffed eyes widened with surprise. He didn't want…well…._that_ did he?

"E-e-erik…I can't…..I-I w-wont d-do it…I-I'm p-pregnant…"

Erik cut her off by laughing out loud, cruelly.

"No Charlotte, I don't want that. I'm quite pleased to say that I do not love you anymore, and I was a foolish, silly boy when I did love you."

Charlotte felt relieved, but at the same time a little bit disappointed.

"O-oh..." She stuttered.

"What I want from you is something entirely different. You are the new dance director, is that correct?"

Charlotte did not speak, but merely nodded.

'Give this to your managers." He handed her a white envelope, sealed with red wax in the shape of a scull.

"W-what is it?" Charlotte eyed the envelope carefully, thinking it contained something harmful.

"Charlotte…you remember the last day you ever saw me, am I correct?" His cold eyes glared at her as she slowly shook her head, avoiding his gaze as best as she could.

"You may think I loathe you right now, but that is not true. I actually want to thank you."

Charlotte started at him, a look of confusion on her face, her mouth already forming questions. But Erik cut her off before she could speak.

"You made me realize something. Everyone judges me by the way I look, so why should I take their orders, or follow their rules?" I know things Charlotte. I know how to compose songs, build and create things. The gypsies taught me many things, like magic, and how to…" Erik swallowed.

"…kill." Charlotte was starting to look frightened again, her eyes the size of marbles.

"I follow no ones rule anymore. I live only for myself, and for music. Music is my life, Charlotte. Every since you taught me to play the organ, I have been addicted to music. There is nothing else as important to me. So I have decided that this opera house will now belong to me. I will decide what shows they will perform, and who will do it, and they will pay me. And if they defy me, well I'll just have to deal with them."

"Deal with them?" Charlotte stared at Erik's emotionless face, trying to avoid his piercing eyes that looked so frightening as they stared at her through the mask.

Erik stared at her quizzically. "You remember the gypsies, don't you Charlotte?

Charlotte stepped back gasped. A look of pure terror was painted on her face. "You're not actually thinking of…of...k-killing them are you?"

"Whatever I want to do I can Charlotte. And you'd be smart giving your managers that letter. You wouldn't want me to deal with you, or your precious baby would you? Erik started chuckling, a deep, frightening laugh.

Charlotte gave out a small cry, and pressed her eyes shut for a moment. When she finally opened them, Erik was gone, only the sound of his laughter echoing through her mind.


	7. Your Obedient Servant

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, yadda yadda yada, you know the rest.

Hello again! Once again, sorry about the wait. Reviews are GREATLY appreciated, so if you find that kind, soft spot in your heart, please leave a little contribution in the small box. Enjoy!

Chapter 7- Your Obedient Servant

Charlotte's body trembled as she briskly walked down the steps leading to the theater, the letter clutched tightly in her hand. She looked down at the skull and started to walk a little faster. In her hurry, her bloated stomach knocked against the railing, and Charlotte quickly grasped her stomach, making sure her baby was not harmed. After she had examined her stomach, she continued on, confident her baby was not hurt.

Charlotte looked down at her stomach again, and smiled. Oh how she loved her baby! The poor thing wasn't even born yet, and already Charlotte loved her baby more than anything else in the world. She thought constantly what gender the baby would turn out to be, and decided she really didn't care. If it's a girl I'll name her Meg, Charlotte decided, because Javert loved that name. She smiled sadly. And if a boy…she would name him after his father, the best name for a boy she could think off. But suddenly an image of Erik's sneering face snapped Charlotte out of her dream world, making her almost trip on the steep stairs.

Oh dear God, She thought. What is he going to do? He's not really serious about…murder is he? Charlotte shook her head and tried to forget about Erik's awful encounter. Before entering the theater, she paused and took a deep breath.

"It's alright Charlotte," she told herself. "You have nothing to worry about." Even Charlottes own words of advice weren't helping her. Taking one last deep breath, Charlotte stumbled into the theater, her frightened eyes scanning the theater.

She spotted Monsier Lefevre, the manager, standing center stage, in deep discussion with Monsieur Reyer, the conductor. There were rehearsals going on, and Monsieur Reyer did not look happy. She stepped up quietly, not wanting to interrupt their conversation.

"…But Monsieur Lefevre, we are rehearsing! Can we not talk about this another time?"

"Only a moment of your time, Reyer, but I need to discuss this…ahhh Madame Giry, how can I help you?" Smiling, Monsieur Lefevre quickly turned his attention to the shivering woman standing in the corner, mainly to annoy Reyer, whose mouse like face was twitching with annoyance.

"Madame, are you well?" Lefevre studied Charlotte, she looked deathly pale and very frightened.

Trembling, Charlotte said nothing but hold out the letter with her cold, shaking fingers.

Lefevre took the letter from Charlotte then looked at her curiously. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the letter seal.

"What an odd seal this is, Madame. Tell me, what exactly is this?"

Again, Charlotte said nothing, but stared at him with those wide, swollen eyes.

Lefevre opened the envelope, then took out the letter and started unfolding it. Once the letter was unfolded, he squinted his eyes at the parchment and started reading, a curious look on his face. The strange look quickly turned to a look of confusion and disbelief. When he finished the letter his grim eyes quickly shifted to Charlotte.

"Madame Giry, I demand to know who wrote this letter." Lefebvre's eyes were staring at Charlotte so intensely; she felt she would start to melt under his gaze.

Reyer, who had been sulking in a corner and eavesdropping quite closely, couldn't contain himself much longer.

"For God's sake, Lefevre, what does the letter say?" He piped, as he rushed up to Lefevre.

Lefevre, who was still waiting for Charlotte's answer, continued to stare at her. Charlotte slowly lifted her gaze from the floor and started to stare back at him. She could hear Reyer's voice piping up,

"What does it say? What does it say?"

Slowly Lefevre brought his gaze back from Charlotte to the letter. With one last curious glance at Charlotte, he raised the letter up to his face and began to read out loud;

_Dear Lefevre,_

_I have been watching and listening to your opera's for a very long time now. I must tell you lately that I have been very disappointed, and have decided that you need my gracious assistance. From now on, I will give you orders on how I would like my opera house to be run, and I expect 20,000 francs in return. If you do not obey these orders, a disaster, beyond your imagination will occur. I advise you to be wise and not take this letter for granted, for I am most serious. I will send letters shortly detailing how my theatre is to be run. _

_Your Obedient Servant,_

_Opera Ghost_

"What in heaven is that?" Reyer sputtered. "Who is this..this...Opera Ghost?

"That's exactly what I'm trying to figure out…Madame Giry? Is this your idea of a practical joke?" Lefevre narrowed his eyes at the woman, for if this was a joke he was certainly not amused.

Still, Charlotte didn't say a word.

"Madame Giry! For the last time, who wrote this damn letter? I will not ask again!"

Charlotte slowly turned around until she was facing the two men, then looked at there faces. Lefevre looked curious and very annoyed, and Reyer looked how he usually did, like an anxious mouse with his eyes bugged out.

"A…A man…he appeared before me….wearing a...a mask…gave me this letter and said to g-give it to you."

"Have you every seen this man before?" Levefre's tone softened seeing how upset the poor woman was.

"N-no." A crimson blush spread across Charlotte's face, her lie clearly visible to see.

"What is wrong, Madame? Did he do something to you?"

"He . . . He just scared me, monsieur. And he looked quite dangerous, I would not ignore his..his…warning." Charlotte swallowed and looked down at her feet.

"What, this?" Lefevre waved the paper in the air.

"I am not afraid of this! Whoever wrote this is a mad man, thinking he can fool me into giving him money. How ridiculous!"

Lefevre looked down at the paper and started laughing. "A disaster beyond my imagination? Who does this "Opera Ghost" think he is?"

Even Reyer was laughing now, little wheezing noises that made him shake.

"Fear not, my dear Madame Giry, I doubt any harm will come to you or any of us. I doubt this; "Phantom of the Opera" will harm you." Lefevre started chuckling again, and crumbled up the note in his hand.

"Now Reyer, about this piece…." Lefevre turned his back to Charlotte, the letter already forgotten.

Charlotte quickly walked out of the theatre, more frightened than ever. Lefevre was so confident, yet she knew otherwise. After all, Erik had murdered before, why wouldn't he do it again?

Oh Erik, she thought. She moved her fingers to her stomach, and felt the small feet kicking her from within.

Please don't forget that I love you.


	8. Christine

Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom…and sadly never will

Hello Again, WOW it's been such a long time since I've updated, I'm sorry! I am seriously going to die from my busy schedule, and I apologize for this short chapter. Thanks for the patience and reviews, and enjoy this chapter-QKeys

Chapter 8-Christine

Lefevre briskly walked up the stairs to his chamber, a deep frown shadowing his face. What is wrong with me, he thought to himself. I've gotten many little jokes like these, all harmful pranks with no meaning. But for some reason, this time felt different; dangerous. He was getting worried, but for _what_?

Lefevre shook his head as if clearing out thoughts. Get a Grip on your self, man! He thought to himself, and started laughing at how foolish he was being. Still chuckling, the manager went to sleep with thoughts of profits on his mind.

_8 years later_

Meg squirmed uncomfortably as her mother desperately tried to brush the knots out of her thick, blond hair.

"Meg! You must stop squirming! We are about to be late!" Charlotte scolded gently as she lightly slapped Meg on her behind. Meg yelped as Charlotte attempted to brush out a huge clump of tangled hair, and escaped her mothers grasp. Meg quickly bounded away, a triumphant smile on her pretty face.

Charlotte sighed and set down the strained brush, frustrated but extremely happy. Meg was nearly eight, and her energetic jumpiness was slowly wearing her mother out. Charlotte was now a prim and proper woman, stern but at the same time extremely gentle. She was very serious about dancing, and was now the best instructor in the city. But she adored Meg, who was a lovely little girl, and Charlotte loved her more than anything in the whole world. The one thing Charlotte was truly sorry about was that Meg didn't have a sibling, and oddly enough did not have many friends, because of her quiet and shy personality. And since Meg was moving into the opera house dormitories now, instead of staying with herself in their own room, Charlotte was extremely sorry that Meg didn't have a brother or sister to play with and to look after each other. But just recently, a sad event had just occurred. The famous musician Daae, a trusted friend and musician to the Opera Populaire, had sadly passed away, leaving his daughter, Christine, alone. Charlotte was glad to take her into care and raise her like Christine was her own , but she could only imagine how miserable the poor thing must be. Charlotte sighed, she herself was quite upset about the death, but secretly a bit hopeful that Meg and Christine might friends, and Meg wouldn't be so lonely.

Suddenly, Meg jumped out from behind a trunk where she was hiding, covered in a white sheet. "Woooooooo woooooo I'm a ghooooooost" Meg shouted, giggling. "Watch out for the Ghost, Mama!"

Charlotte froze for a second, and then quickly recovered from her shock. She sadly shook her head to herself in disgust, even the mention of a ghost made her freeze. Luckily, it had been years since she had last seen or heard from Eric, the "Opera Ghost". Charlotte shivered; even the thought of Eric gave her chills. Although she had not seen him since he had given her that letter, she had heard many rumors of a "Phantom Figure" lurking around the theatre. She hoped they were just rumors though, for she could not forget Eric's cruel threats, and had experienced many sleepless nights thinking about what she had done wrong. Charlotte felt a small tear leak out from her eye, and she quickly brushed it away before Meg would see. What had she done wrong? Charlotte tried as hard as she could not to cry, but could not deny the many raindrops sliding down her cheeks. Immediately, Charlotte became angry at herself. It's been years and years, she thought angrily. And I still can't get over it?

"Mama? Mama?" Meg quickly dropped the sheet and ran over to her crying mother. "Mama it's just me! It's not really a ghost! I was only joking mama! Mama I'm sorry!" Charlotte almost started to laugh at her darling daughter's confusion. Charlotte quickly wiped her eyes, smearing the wetness along her cheeks.

"I'm fine, darling, just had something in my eye." Charlotte explained, and tried her best to smile at her young daughter. Seeing her mother smile, Meg's frown of confusion immediately turned into a big smile, but still sensing something was wrong, ran over to the table and grabbed the brush.

"Quickly mama," Meg giggled. "why did you stop brushing my hair?" charlotte gave her daughter a sarcastic glare then took the brush once more from Meg's hands and tried once more to comb through the mess of gorgeous, sunshine colored hair. "Once we finish cleaning your messy self," Charlotte said, "It's off to dance rehearsal for you, and afterward you will meet Christine."

Meg turned with a curious expression to her mother. "Mama," she said. "Will this Christine be my...my friend? Charlotte smiled at her daughter and gently smoothed down her dance petticoat.

"Of course she will, darling. In fact, I'm almost positive you will be as close as sisters."

Charlotte stood tall and strait at the corner, waiting for the arrival of Christine. The sounds of horses trotting and venders selling were all around her, and charlotte closed her eyes as the wind blew around her face, the delicious scents of the street all around her. Her eyes snapped open as the sounds of a carriage came very close, and Charlotte tried her best to smile warmly as the carriage came to a stop in front of her. The door swung open, and a small girl slowly walked out, a hood draped over face. The moment the girl stepped out the carriage sped away, as fast as it had arrived. The girl started walking slowly toward Charlotte, almost as if she was a spirit, and finally lifted her hood. Charlotte gasped at the sight of Christine; she was a mirror image of her mother. Christine had huge, brown eyes that looked glazed from crying so much, beautiful cream colored skin, perfectly shaped pink lips, and thick, mocha colored locks that curled beautifully around her porcelain face. Her face was the most miserable face Charlotte had ever seen on a little girl, there was no life in her eyes, or laughter on her lips like little girls should have at her age.

Charlotte caught her breath, and smiled. "Christine," Charlotte whispered. "I am so happy to see you, my dear."

Christine's eyes looked up from the ground and Charlotte marveled at her innocent eyes.

"Are you my new mother now, Madame?" Christine whispered questionably.

"You are to be raised in the Opera Populaire, but yes, I will look after you," Charlotte said slowly. There was a stretch of silence, and Charlotte took this opportunity to introduce herself.

"My name is Charlotte Giry, I am not sure if you remember me or not, But I was good friends with your mother." Christine shook her head, so Charlotte continued, "My dear, I am so sorry for your loss, and I do hope you will be happy here. You will take dancing and singing lessons with my daughter, Meg, who is your own age, and many other girls."

Christine's eyes lit up when she heard this, for her passion was to sing.

"Will I become a star, someday, Madame?" Christine's small voice asked.

Charlotte knelt down and smoothed Christine's curls out of her face.

"You never know, my dear. You never know."


End file.
